Sean's progress in astronomy was as slow as his early progress with Charms, but he didn't mind.
On the contrary, he was intensely curious what kind of bonus the Prophetic Magic title would unlock.
This was prophecy, after all—one of the deepest, most mysterious branches of magic.
Its mystery and depth were enough to brush up against a word like destiny.
On another clear night with good visibility, Sean was about to leave the castle when he saw Mr. Filch walking past with the cleaning broom in hand.
Sean noticed that in Filch's hands the broom wasn't nearly as well–behaved as it was with him. It could clean the floor, but always left stray bits and crumbs behind.
That became especially obvious when a group of mud–splattered students came in from outside.
The cleaning broom could remove most of the mud, but it seemed to ignore scattered, tiny flecks of dirt.
In front of Sean, the group of students stomped mud all over the corridor and chattered happily:
"Have you heard, Lavender? Merlin—shop No. 93 in Diagon Alley is finally opening! This summer—"
It was a bright–eyed Gryffindor with long black hair and fine features.
"Parvati, of course. I can't wait to buy some kneazle cookies. Do you think that'll help us find the Castle Spirit Cat?
Oh—it's the Messenger of Christmas Night, the castle spirit who holds good fortune… the towering castle is its ears, the spiral stairs are its breath…"
Lavender, tall and willowy, murmured the words softly and devoutly.
It sounded like some kind of religious scripture.
They walked past and disappeared…
Only then did Sean remember the twins had been wailing a few days ago for him to speed up production; they said there was no time.
So that was why?
Leaving that aside for the moment, Sean turned his attention to the now–much–more–relaxed caretaker.
"Mr. Filch, may I have a look at the cleaning broom?"
Sean asked.
"Green—really, really glad to see you here—of course, take a look all you like—"
Filch handed over what he currently treated as his greatest treasure without hesitation.
Sean pressed his wand along the broom, and in moments he understood where the problem lay.
Tools for wizards and tools for those without magic were never quite the same.
In a wizard's hands, will and magical control could easily command every nuance of the broom; it would obey perfectly.
But in Mr. Filch's hands, it was different. He didn't have enough magic in his body to truly steer it, so he could only use it in a rough, brute–force way.
Sean also finally understood why his cleaning broom had been stuck at Journeyman level—the rune array was simply not refined enough.
He frowned, thinking it through, when a loud voice rang right by his ear.
"Great Green—the joke shop's going to open!"
Fred shouted.
"This summer!"
George was practically vibrating with excitement.
"All three of us are going to be there—no one missing!"
Fred declared.
"You're the true majority shareholder of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, how could you not be there?"
George waggled his eyebrows.
Before Sean could answer, they had already hoisted him—and the broom—off his feet and were carrying him away.
He was halfway through being hauled off before he realized what was happening.
"Do you know how much we've earned? Merlin—it's a number that'll make you swallow your own tongue!"
Fred practically cheered.
"You have to come with us, great Green—even if you're busy saving the world, you're not getting out of this—"
George spun around and struck a superhero pose.
"Ah—what's this?"
Fred yelped as the broom poked him in the ribs, then stared at it.
"Not bad. Pretty good, actually… but too粗糙—too crude…"
George leaned in to examine it as well, then said:
"Strange. Very strange. It looks like some super–genius threw together a powerful ritual and top–grade materials to force it into existence—but I'll bet anything he hasn't studied runes for more than three years…"
Both of them were immediately absorbed by the broom.
"An ingenious build—so why is the basic layer so rough?"
Fred asked George.
"And almost no fine–grained magical control in the core circuits—only a genius who moves too fast would have this problem."
George turned to Sean.
"Great Green, where did you get this bizarre thing? From the alchemy conference?"
Sean had so much he could say that he fell silent for a moment.
"Fred, George—just call me Sean. I made it."
Fred let out an "Aha!" and stuck out his left hand.
"Knew it!"
"Just what I was thinking!"
George and Fred clapped hands.
"We'll help you refine it—but you'll have to come to the Burrow with us!"
Fred took off at a sprint.
"Trust me, you'll learn some excellent techniques from Mum. Fine detail is the heart of all household magic!"
George shouted over his shoulder as he ran.
The Burrow, huh?
Sean turned that over in his mind, then headed out of the castle.
Just like that, several more days slipped by.
Maybe it was the exam nerves, but Hogwarts was, once again, thick with rumors.
First, Professor Quirrell stopped showing up for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Once he was gone, everyone realized that having no teacher… felt about the same.
Only in Justin's case did Defence change dramatically—his Defence edition of the Green Notes started selling even better—until Professor Snape turned up to substitute for Defence.
Students who'd never cared what happened to Quirrell suddenly wished they could dig him out of the castle by hand.
They fretted all day, sniffing around for news. After Ron accidentally spilled that Quirrell was in the hospital wing, Sean began to notice all kinds of get–well offerings piling up on Quirrell's bedside table.
Every last one of them said the same thing: they hoped he'd recover soon. They did not want four periods of Snape per week.
Snape himself was visibly growing gaunter by the day—but his spirits were higher than ever.
That, of course, sparked more rumors.
For example: that Snape, hungry for the Defence post, had secretly attacked Quirrell.
The students weren't sure who started that one, but whoever it was lost ten House points the next day after "accidentally" stirring a potion with his left hand.
At the same time, there was another rumor spreading through Hogwarts.